The arrival of autumn makes me remember my favorite tree in the world. Yes, I have a favorite tree – a tall and round oak which stands 30 yards short and to the right of the second green at The Country Club in Brookline, Massachusetts. It isn’t a strategic obstacle to be carefully circumnavigated; rather, it stands proudly alone and aloof to the side, like a guardsman’s bearskin at Buckingham Palace. But in the autumn, it bursts into the most intoxicating blend of yellows, oranges and reds…the trees in my native Georgia changed colors in the fall, but not like this. As a freshman on the Harvard golf team, playing golf at Brookline taught me what autumn in New England can look like, and that golfing scenery can be just as beautiful in the quiet repose of autumn as it can in the spectacular brilliance of Pebble Beach or Cypress Point.
Of course, from a practical point of view the glories of autumnal golf are fleeting: when the foliage falls to the ground, you need a leaf blower to clear the greens and a dimple detector to find wayward shots in the rough. (No joke: I once lost a putter head in the autumn leaves at Brookline.) And on a windy day, the putting path you’ve laboriously cleared to the hole can quickly disappear. I now play most of my golf on linksland courses, and I do occasionally miss the tree-lined courses of my youth, but never now – never in the autumn.
In a Ryder Cup-free autumn such as this, the joys and indeed the meaning of professional golf are buried under similar detritus. The dullness began in August with the turgid WGC event at Firestone, which is to tree-lined golf what Monopoly is to family boardgames. The PGA Championship suffers from identity crises in its choice of venues and course setup, its parade of mediocre champions, and its format – a return to matchplay or perhaps even medal-matchplay (i.e., head-to-head strokeplay) would be most welcome. The FedEx Cup Playoffs are a pathetic attempt to stay relevant at the height of baseball season and the start of football season by throwing money at the über-rich. I enjoyed watching the Solheim Cup, but Team Korea would wipe the floor with its winners if given the chance, and because of it the US Amateur (at Brookline!) wasn’t on UK television. The Presidents Cup features an “International” team – shorthand for “Everyone Ineligible for the Ryder Cup” – and as such cannot be taken seriously. Do you remember when the Skins Game used to be a big deal? Me neither.
The European Tour actually comes into its own in the autumn: some of its venues can be very watchable (e.g., at the KLM Open and the Dunhill Links Championship), Ryder Cup points have started to accrue, and the Race to Dubai is at least intuitive to follow. But still, when the state of Tiger Woods’ back seems more important than the result of the tournament you’re watching, perhaps it’s time to look elsewhere for your professional sporting fix. Or go outside and find your own lovely tree to stare at and meditate upon. It’s OK: golf will still be here when you get back.
(Photo: Members play the second hole at Brookline as a short par 4, but in high-level tournaments it plays as a long par 3.)